A/N: Some background if you aren't aware. A long time ago, Cassie answered on Twitter if she always knew Will was going to be Welsh, and she said yes, but especially after she learned about Welsh prejudice in the Victorian era. I couldn't find much information on this subject while writing this, so I don't have much to go on, but still thought it would be a good topic to write about.

Xenophobia is the fear of foreigners.

Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns The Infernal Devices.

Cecily and Will stepped out of the carriage. "Thanks very much," Will said, clapping Cyril on the shoulder. "We'll be back within the hour."

They were out in London, searching for a birthday present for Jem. He and Tessa were already preoccupied with helping Charlotte search through some archives that had been ignored for years, so they had no trouble sneaking out.

"I want to see that new writing store," Cecily said. "There's a gorgeous fountain pen there I think he would like."

"All right," Will said. "Where is it?"

Cecily looked around. "Down this street," she said. "It's on the corner."

There it was, a little shop with a few customers inside. It certainly appeared to be new, sporting none of the grimy walls and dusty windows the other stores in the vicinity had accumulated over the years.

Cecily went in first. "Good morning, sir," she said, smiling at the storekeeper, a thin, spindly man. He bowed in return.

"Welcome, welcome. Please, take a look at our wares."

"Thank you." Cecily turned and examined the shelves.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Will asked from over her shoulder.

"It's black with gold banding," Cecily said. "And there's ivory colored decoration all along the body." She let out a breath of frustration. "It's not here. Excuse me," she said, catching the storekeeper's attention. "There was a fountain pen in the display two days ago, black and gold with ivory. Do you know where it's kept?"

The storekeeper rubbed his chin. "Black, gold, and ivory, eh? Got sold off, I think."

Cecily's face fell. "You don't have another one in storage? Not a single one?"

"One minute," the man said. "I might have something else that will interest you." He went behind the counter into a backroom, returning with a thin box. He put it on the counter and opened it for Cecily to inspect.

Sitting in the box was a brown pen, black banding around the middle and three gray streaks along the length of it. Cecily picked up the box, leaving the pen safely nestled among the wrapping paper, and frowned slightly. It looked nothing like the one she had been hoping for, and nowhere near as beautiful.

"Er, Cec..."Will said. There was a clipped sound to his voice, something Cecily knew to be a hint of disapproval. Obviously, her brother agreed that the pen was a bore.

Cecily gave the storekeeper the briefest glance and turned her head to the side a little. "I wybod. Mae'n erchyll," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?" the storekeeper snapped suspiciously. "What was that?"

"Oh!" Cecily whipped around. "Nothing, just talking to my brother here."

The storekeeper was not deterred. He leaned over the counter, squinting at Cecily. "You were speaking Welsh, weren't you?"

At that, Will spoke up quickly. "No. No, she wasn't." He gave Cecily a warning look.

But Will's automatic reply was as much as a confession. "I don't need my store being invaded with filthy foreigners," the storekeeper said, an ugly expression on his face. "Especially ones from a place like Wales."

Cecily glared at the man. "We're not invading your store, idiot."

"You're invading if I say you are," the storekeeper said. "Get out! Go on!" he added, looking at Will. "Take your dirty sister and never set foot in here again."

Will slammed his hands on the table and leaned over into the man's face so they were almost face-to-face. "My sister isn't dirty," he said through between his teeth.

The storekeeper backed up so fast it was almost funny, pressed up tightly against his cabinets. "Devils, all of you!" he bawled, pointing at the pair of siblings with an accusing but trembling finger. "Get out of my shop before I call the guards on you!"

His shouting had alerted the other customers to Will and Cecily's heritage by now. Cecily looked around and saw the people staring at her with the same look, full of fear, prejudice, and dislike. Many of them put down what they had been looking at and left the store hastily, without a backward glance. Cecily met the gaze of a middle-aged woman, who promptly shuddered, threw Cecily a face of disgust and departed through the door.

The storekeeper's eyes popped out of his head. "There, now! See what you've done? Scared all of my customers away with your witchcraft!"

Will looked around the store and then returned his eyes to the storekeeper. "You've done that yourself!" he spat with contempt.

The storekeeper shook his head frantically and waved his hands towards them, like he was warding off bad spirits. "Stay away! I won't have my shop being infected by you vermin sorts!"

"We aren't the plague!" Cecily retorted. All hopes of making a purchase were lost, clearly. She was just staying around to watch the man get riled up, even though it was having the same effect on her. She hadn't felt this angry in a long time.

"Nothing but good for nothing people there," the storekeeper mumbled. "You might as well be."

Cecily didn't say anything, only glared at him. She exchanged a look with Will, whose face was impassive. Then she looked back at the storekeeper.

"Fine. Hope you've caught it then."

"What?"

"Oh, mynd I uffern, basdun," Cecily said, turning to leave. Will stifled a laugh, managing to turn it into a hacking cough.
"What?" the shopkeeper exclaimed. "What'd you say, you witch? A curse?"

"I said, myn i uffern, basdun," Cecily reiterated, with emphasis. "What part of that don't you understand? Oh, I forgot this too." She was still holding the box. "You can keep your damn pen. Good day, sir."

She turned on her heel and slammed the door violently. The moment they had stepped out of the shop, the man locked the door, absolutely aghast. Cecily felt a wave of vindictive pleasure come over her at seeing how much terror she had caused the man.

She walked very quickly back to the carriage, Will several feet behind her. "Cecily, wait!" he called. "You haven't gotten anything—"

"We can do that some other time," she said shortly. "I don't want to anymore."

"Cecily, wait," Will repeated, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"What?" she said furiously. Now that her chew toy the storekeeper was gone, she had no one else to take her anger out on except Will.

"I know you're mad, but—"

"Yes, of course I'm mad, brawd mawr, why aren't—"

"Shh! Are you insane?" Will hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cecily demanded, her dark eyes burning. For the first time, Will felt their intensity and understood why people so often gave in to his will: The eyes he was meeting possessed a very penetrating look that held a great amount of intimidation, if the person was pushed to the right place. And Cecily was certainly at that place right now.

"Look: people here, they won't like it if they know—well, where we're from."

"Thanks, I figured that out," Cecily said.

"Listen. I'm not kidding around here, understand? You can't just go around blurting Welsh; that's really going to put people on edge. Surely Mother or Father have told you that," Will said.

"No one cares at the Institute," Cecily muttered.

"Of course not," Will said. "They accept us as we are, no matter where we were born. But the people out here, they won't. You have to be careful. They can do a lot worse than badger you until you leave whatever you're doing."

Cecily avoided his eyes, only looking at the ground, still frowning. Resentment and bitterness were written all over her. "It's not fair," she said. "I haven't done anything; there's nothing wrong with me, either. It's not a crime to be Welsh. It's not fair," she said again. "I don't want to erase some part of me just because these people don't like it. I don't want to erase some part of me just to keep them happy."

"You don't have to erase it," Will tried to comfort her. "Just keep it hidden when you're in public."

"That's not much better," Cecily said.

"I know it's not, and I know it's not fair," Will said. "But it's all we can do. The world can't favor everyone. We need to learn to make the best of it."

When she still didn't look more cheerful, Will resorted to a different tactic. "Come on, let's get back. I'll make you some special caws pobi for dinner. The way Mother used to cook it."

Cecily's eyes lit up and she smiled a little bit. "You know how to cook that?"

"I certainly can," Will said stoutly.

"All right," Cecily said. "Just don't burn the Institute down, will you?"

A/N: Hope you liked it! It was certainly fun to write, showing Cecily's mouth. Hehe. Please review!

Translations –

I wybod. Mae'n erchyll / I know. It's hideous.

Mynd I uffern, basdun / Go to hell, bastard.

brawd mawr / big brother

caws pobi / baked cheese (Welsh term for Welsh rarebit, Welsh dish where a sauce of melted cheese are poured over slices of toast)